Chinook Salvage Run
by MosinM38
Summary: What will YOU be doing while others run around helplessly? Chapter 4. Mild violence.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Jericho or its genre. But the characters I created are MINE. MWUAHHAHAHA.

Timeline Layout: Bombs +8 days.

Series layout: This is set in the Chinook Series. It focus's around the Stout family 15 miles from a small town Called Chinook. Chinook is roughly 65 miles North of Jericho and 135 Miles south of Blackjack trading post.

Chapter series Layout: This follows what happens after a few people realize this isn't going to end soon. The first glimpses of a graphic new world are evident.

This Chapter: Sortof short. Mainly introduction. Not much action. BUT...It does include one Canon character (Sortof), in the form of Ravenwood.

WARNINGS: None.

Feedback: PLEASE, Leave. I am copying off of another forum, and although I think I gleaned mistakes I never know. Aside from spelling and punctuation mistakes please let me know ;)

--  
Chapter 1.

It was 4:30 in the morning when John left the house. He walked over to his pickup parked in front of the house and opened the door. The interior light shone out of the cab and onto the ground as he checked through the stuff in the pickup.

He jumped as a voice behind him spoke, "Got everything?"

"God damnit, Grant don't do that. I coulda shot you ya know."

"Nah. I figured you would either know it was me, or have a heart attack."

"Hmmph. Anyway. I got about everything I need. Got our food for today. Got my guns and ammunition. I loaded up our portable air compressor. With air power we can change a tire or do repairs 5 times faster. Your pickup ready?"

Grant nodded.

"You got a go-bag? That is, if we gotta hoof it for some reason?"

He nodded again, "Yeah. Got 3 days worth of food, a small medkit, flashlight, etc.. I got our other stuff we need ready too. Here take a couple of these," Grant handed him a pair of bottles with fuse sticks on the side.

"What the hell are these?"

"Molotov cocktails. Figured they might be worth having."

"You sure they ain't gonna blow up on us?" John asked, eyeing the bottles warily.

"Shouldn't. Touch a pickup lighter to the fuse stick to light that. Shouldn't even touch the gas inside until that bottle is shattered."

"Okay genius. Mind telling me how to use one of these damn things while I am driving?"

Grant shrugged, "A lotta luck?"

"Probably. Now lets get moving. Turn your radio to channel 8."

"Okay. 2 clicks for trouble?"

"Right. No talking unless absolutely necesary. These aren't secure channels and anyone can listen to them," John turned and climbed into his pickup.

John turned the key and the truck roared into life, quickly replaced by the rattle common to diesel engines. Grant walked back to the pickup parked behind John's and climbed in. He turned the key and they slowly pulled out.

As they left, Grant looked at the house. His mom, Deb, was standing on the doorstep and waved goodbye. He waved back although he doubted she could see it in this dark. As they left Grant had a brief flash of panic before settling into driving. This was a brand new world. One he wasn't used to. He had only driven on the highway a couple times before the bombs. His third time could although unlikely, be his last.

2 pickups left the Stout Ranch and soon were on the highway to Goodland. One a new model Dodge pickup. The other a older model Ford. Both were pulling long gooseneck trailers. John drove the lead Dodge while Grant was driving the Ford.

Although they hadn't seen much of the situation outside of Chinook they had taken a lot of precautionary measures. John's dodge had flat-iron plates installed only a couple days after learning about the bombs. It had only taken 3 days for complete confusion to take hold. The same type of confusion seen in places around the world... like Somalia and the Sudan. So all measures had been taken.

Grant skipped out of his thoughts and scanned the country they were traveling through. It was far different from his home. A small valley with a river running through it and speckled with trees. A stark contrast to here. Flat and open, with not a tree in sight.As far as the eye could see nothing but grainfields and pastureland. It was almost uncanny as they traveled. Not a outfit in sight, no work in the almost ready to cut grainfields. He actually got a small chuckle out of it. With the overcast skies it painted a perfect apocalyptic picture around them.

The radio bolted to the dashboard gave 2 muffled clicks. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw 4 vehicles about a mile behind them coming fast upon them.

Although the world today gave him reason he was even more paranoid than it warranted. He punched in the cigarette lighter on the pickup and got it heating up. Between glances in the mirror and ahead at the road he glanced into the passenger seat.

Riding in it was his Ruger carbine. It was only a light rifle. Firing the same bullet as the US military's rifle. Alongside it was the scoped sniper rifle. It was civilian manufactured but basically identical to the US Army sniper rifle. Semi-automatic and carrying a 20 round magazine, it fired a bullet 3 times heavier than the carbine round. But it was one of the 3 bottles laying alongside them that he picked up and held next to his side.

As they pulled closer he could make out that they were Humvees, painted a solid black. As they got closer 3 of them pulled out to pass. The 4th didn't make a move to pass which made Grant nervous. It possibly meant that they thought the pickups were worth checking over.

The 3 Humvees slowly passed by his window. The windows were tinted black so he couldn't see the occupants. He could tell they were looking him and his pickup over closely. He tried to manage a dumb, curious look back at them, hopefully giving the appearance of someone not worth bothering.

He breathed easier when the last Humvee pulled out and passed. The 4 outfits accelerated and quickly pulled out of sight ahead of them. It gave him the shakes when he thought of who they possibly might be.

Not many people in these parts could afford a Hummer, much less 4 of them. And all sporting that black paint job. Looked more like something military, or a police unit would be using. Nonetheless they were gone and he pushed all the thoughts of them out of his mind for now.


	2. Chapter 2

He relaxed slightly as no-one else appeared after another half hours driving. About 30 minutes outside Goodland John pulled his Dodge off the road and onto a side road leading to an old airport. He pulled onto the cement in front of the neglected buildings and killed the engine.

Grant pulled alongside, got out and walked over to his dad's pickup.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Just gathering my thoughts before we go any further. Wanted to get off the highway first though. We need a plan before we do anything. Trying to figure out what we need, where to get it, load up and get out fast. I also want to avoid the local police. They will be doing their jobs and I don't want to cause any extra trouble."

Grant nodded, "Yeah. That wouldn't be pleasant," He fidgeted while his dad carefully looked over a map of Goodland and waited. Although he knew that they had to be cautious about all this, he still was wanting to just go in, get what they needed and leave.

"Of the things we actually need, probably the most important right now is flat iron and tires," John finally said.

"Flat iron? I know it is good armor but I doubt the situation will remain bad enough that we should focus on it. Tires I can see. They wear out relatively fast," Grant paused, "You really think this is going to last a long time?"

"Yeah. I do. Look at Katrina. A hurricane hits basically 1 city and 2 months after it nothing had been done. Even now they haven't got anything actually done. Imagine if even 3 US cities got attacked...Kansas isn't going to be high on their priority list."

Grant nodded as John continued.

"Ok. Tires check. Probably should get a few dozen vehicle batteries. Most of our pickups use the same battery. Shouldn't need many. They are something else every bit as important as a part. If a battery goes you won't be running a outfit."

"I got to thinking. We should probably get some extra clothing. We wear out clothes pretty fast," Grant said.

"Yeah. And I was thinking we should get some leather and light flat-iron. Bulletproof vests will be un-attainable now, but I think if we do much more salvage trips we might want them. Basically we need a lot of shit. Our first stop should probably be Farm&Ranch Supply. They got a vehicle supply store in one half and ranch supply in the other half. They'll have work clothes there too. So we can knock off a good portion of this list in one stop. Sound good?" he asked.

Grant processed it all and nodded, "Okay lets get going," John said.

They pulled into the F&R parking lot. It was bare. Not a single outfit was parked near the store. At first they had worried that the store would have already been gone through.But apparently people were concentrating on food, fuel and other neccessities like that and hadn't gotten around to long-term supplies like this store provided.

They pulled the pickups and trailers right up to the front doors, as tight to the building as they could.

"Grant, you stay here and watch. I am gonna see about getting in," John pulled his rifle and a large sledgehammer out of his pickup.

Grant pulled the sniper rifle out of the pickup and opened up his binocular case. He picked up his binoculars and scanned the area. F&R was on the edge of town. Other than a small compound that formerly had been a scrap metal yard, on the other side of the highway about 200 yards there wasn't another building within a quarter mile, providing a clear view around them.

John walked up to the doorway to the store. Like so many modern day stores not a thought was given about security if the power went out. The glass door easily shattered under his blows and without power the alarms didn't go off.

As he scraped the last of the glass out of the door frames he felt a hard twinge run through him. This was one thing he hated doing. Even now after the bombs this was a unlawful act. He shook off the thought as he remembered why he was doing it. Corporate ownership was gone anyway, this was for his family and he was only scavenging off of a dead carcass.

He knew no one was inside but he took a quick scan of the place to make sure before going about his business. Nothing worse than thinking your safe and having someone shoot you in the back.

As he went through the store he picked stuff off the shelves and piled them at the end of aisles. Work boots, car batteries and small AA batteries, gloves and other important items. When he finally walked outside Grant had just been coming in.

"Hadn't heard anything in there. Sorta figured something mighta happened," he said.

"No. Just took me awhile. Now, I got the stuff we will be needing in the main store sitting at the ends of aisles. I will stay out here and load onto the trailers and keep watch.You go in and cart the stuff out. Lets move as fast as possible. I want to get out of here," John said casting a nervous glance at the highway as a car passed by. He wanted to leave quickly and get on their way back home before dark and it would take awhile to load the stuff.

For the next hour stuff poured out of the store and onto the back of the trailers. The tires, batteries and larger items were strapped on the front of Grant's trailer. The rest; flashlights, tools, clothing and the like, were left in the shopping carts. They provided a easy to move storage. The ramps leading onto the trailer were dropped and the carts wheeled onto them and strapped down.

Tying down the last strap securing the load Grant walked back to John, who was just exiting the store.

"It ain't ice cold but it won't kill you," John said. He tossed a pair of soda bottles towards Grant. He caught them and stuck them in a coat pocket.

He went to John's pickup and pulled out the lunchbox and grabbed a sandwich out of it.  
He sat on the back of the trailer and began eating. His dad joined him and did the same. They ate in silence for awhile until Grant spoke up.

"Different isn't it?"

"Yeah," his dad replied.

"I guess we do what we got to do," Grant finished his sandwich and tossed the empty soda bottle backwards towards the store.

"Yep," he replied.

With that conversation ended and they went back to their work.


	3. Chapter 3

A hour later they finished loading the second trailer with large chunks of flat iron. As they left the scrapyard John's voice cut in on the radio, "Grant did you hear that?"

He picked up the radio, "No. I had the scanner off so I could be sure it was you."

"Police blocked the main highway. We will have to cut through Goodland itself by the fair grounds and leave through that road."

"Okay. I will follow ya," Grant setting the radio back and leaning back in the seat.

As they drove into town he got a lot more edgy. With their trailers fully loaded it would be obvious to people that it was likely the products of scavenging, thus either being a good target, or to be reported to authorities. Although he wasn't worried about the latter. Most wouldn't bother with telling anyone with authority.

They passed a small gas station about halfway through town. It was congested with vehicles and people. 2 men were pumping out of the underground tanks into a trailer-bound fuel tank of their own, while 3 others held guns on the people around them. A crowd had gathered and was becoming loud. Grant could hear their shouting over his diesel engines rattle and his windows rolled up.

They passed without incident, but only seconds after going by he heard a chorus of shots ring out. Looking in the rearview mirror, he saw the crowd scatter and a couple cars screech off, quickly followed by a pickup pulling the flatbed trailer with a large fuel tank on it.

He had barely gotten out of the view of the gas station when he saw a sight that horrified him. A woman was on her knees on the sidewalk. A small child clung at her side while another, older boy was standing alongside her. She was bent over crying by a man's body lying on the sidewalk. On the approach of the Stout's vehicles 2 men had quickly fled the woman and were now running down the street.

To his surprise, John stopped his pickup. His voice came on the radio echoing Grant's thoughts, "Grant you get out and cover me. For all we know this could be a elaborate trick."

Grant didn't bother to answer. He hit the doorlock button to make sure all the doors were locked before getting out. He left the drivers door open and the pickup running in case of a quick exit. Shouldering his carbine he looked down the streets and around at the houses but saw nothing.

As John walked up to the woman she cowered onto the sidewalk. Even from where he was Grant could hear her words. It was in a almost desperate plea mixed with terror and sorrow.

"PLEASE. PLEASE. Don't hurt me. Don't...," She offered a final time before clutching her children and cowering back a few feet.

John didn't approach any closer. He spoke to the woman but Grant couldn't hear his words. The woman, now visibly calmer, stood up and answered his questions. After a few minutes John walked back to his pickup and rummaged through the passengers seat. He walked back to the woman and handed her 2 small bundles.

One, Grant could tell was a small "aid package" they had assembled before leaving home.  
Although they couldn't and wouldn't help most people, they had prepared it just in case of a situation such as this. There were a lot of good people in this world caught in the open. And if it was possible they would help out some. Having been so much more prepared than most people.

The second bundle Grant recognized was a small automatic pistol. The woman took it and a small box of shells. As he watched, John showed her the weapon and she nodded. He turned to leave as the woman grasped his hand and pumped it feverishly several times before releasing it.

Re-entering the pickups, they pulled away. Looking into the rearview Grant could see the woman opening the small box of food and handing some stuff to her kids.

As her figure faded in the distance he couldn't help but wonder how many hundreds of people were like her. Wrong place at the wrong time. And also how many people there were like the looters at the gas station. Out for personal gain, taking advantage of anyone and everyone for what they needed.


	4. Chapter 4

TimelineBombs+8 days to Bombs+15 days.

--

The next week went by with almost constant scavenging. Another couple trips to Goodland, two to Colby. Another few trips to smaller more isolated towns. All they found was constant chaos everywhere they went. In 8 days they made 10 trips. Although neighbors helped when they could many had more important things to contend with. Many didn't want to leave their homes. Already they had found half a dozen houses, the families killed and anything of value stripped from their homes.

In those trips they were able to stockpile months worth of clothing, canned goods, important vehicle parts and other items that would be needed over a years work. Everything related to guns, ammunition, fuel and the like were completely gone, they wanted to take the things there were while it was still available.

Among the more important items they took were things that would be needed without any proper facilities to attend. Half a entire machine shop was taken down and transported to their place. Although they only had a minute clue as to how to use them they stripped a solar power store of its equipment. Portable air compressors and air tools, plywood and nails. Everything needed to make repairs to buildings and vehicles and to do minor upgrades.

During this time they came across hundreds of people. Streams of people were along the highways leading east. A few driving, some on horsback and hundreds on foot.

Some were begging along the road, hoping for a handout. Others were more desperate, massing onto the road in hordes to stop outfits. Several times they had barely been able to get through these groups without hurting anyone.The people were without hope and few moved until bumped by the pickups grillguards. John and Grant both were in misery about not helping the people. But there was just too many to help. Each trip they easily saw 500 people and the largest majority with nothing at all.

Occasionally, they would find a case they would help, giving them food and occasionally a firearm. More often than not though they were forced to drive by the masses of people.

The lawlessness following the highway was bad enough, it was worse now, several weeks after the bombs. The thugs and bandits were organized. Twice, Grant and John saw a pickup loaded with men stop a group of refugees and rifle through their belongings, taking anything of value. More instances where outfits were run off the road and the wreckage picked through.

With all the trips they made, John considered themselves lucky. In all of this, they only got involved in one of these incidents, and that during their very last trip. He had emphasized, highly, the need to avoid trouble at almost any cost.

They were just leaving Colby, headed back to their ranch. Pulling onto the main highway, John almost collided with a pickup truck screaming down the highway. 80 Yards behind it, a police car, lights flashing, was in pursuit. As they watched a man leaned over the back of the pickups tailgate and fired at the patrol car. It jerked and stayed on the road for a moment before slowly slipping off the pavement. It dropped off and flipped before settling back onto its wheels.

The pursued pickup slowed down to turn back. However, upon sighting the Stout's pickups pulling up alongside the wrecked police car, they obviously thought better of it and took off.

John and Grant exited the outfits. John grabbed the medkit from his pickup while Grant grabbed a axe and crowbar.

When they got to the outfit the driver was struggling with his seatbelt. He saw the Stouts and reached for his sidearm. At least he tried to. His right arm hung limply drenched in blood from the elbow down.

"It's okay, "John said as they came up to the window, "We're here to get you out."

The man looked at him dubiously, but he was in no position to do anything about it. John scraped the last of the glass out of the window before cutting the drivers seatbelt and pulling him out. Walking to the passenger's side Grant looked in at the other officer. The man had no movement and appeared dead. Nonetheless Grant undid the seatbelt and pulled the man out. Checking for a pulse in 2 spots it was clear the man was gone.

Walking back to his dad, he found him attempting to bandage the drivers arm. The man was leaned against the car passed out from the pain.

"How bad is it?" Grant asked.

John looked up and shook his head, "All I am doing is probably dragging this out. His one artery was hit. I got it stopped bleeding, but I don't know how much he lost. If we even move him it may start bleeding again. I know I ain't a surgeon when it comes to this. Other guy is dead?"

Grant nodded, "Between the bullet wound in his chest and broken neck in the crash he never had a chance."

"Look over the car. Trunk, back seat. See if there is anything good. I better stay with him in case he wakes up."

Grant nodded and walked back to the car. Looking into the front seat he looked at the scattered equipment. The radio was useless, no food, supplies or anything of use other than the 2 weapons he found. A pump shotgun, standard in a police car it seemed.

It was the dead officers handgun that caught his interest. He picked it up at first but thought nothing of it. Just a standard glock. He looked a little closer though and found a second switch besides the safety. A selector switch. Although quite useless in reality, finding a true machine pistol almost made up for the entire trip in itself. It might come in handy sometime. At the very least it would be worth something. He stuck it and all the ammunition for it and the shotgun into his pockets.

He found nothing else of use in the car so he walked back to his dad. He was bending over the policeman. As he got closer Grant could hear that the man was barely speaking, albeit just barely.

"I...I..," he was starting to say. He coughed and settled back.

John got up and walked to Grant about 10 feet from the officer. He spoke low for the man to not hear, "He isn't good. I doubt he makes it another hour. If that. So far he hasn't said anything of much use. He mentioned a bomb went off in Chicago. So we know that this is definitely widespread."

Grant nodded, "What do we do with him?"

"Well. We can't leave him here. We don't have time to take him back to Colby. He has internal bleeding I know. And I can't do anything about that," he paused, "I do have this," He said holding up a syringe.

Grant replied slowly, "I guess that is probably best.. Damn I hate doing it."

John nodded, "I know... But I think it is probably best for the poor guy. Won't pain him. He'll just sort of slip into unconciousness...You go start digging."

Grant nodded and walked off.

In the hard ground he wasn't able to go very deep. At the lowest point the hole was only 2 feet down. He finally stood up and stretched his back.

John walked over to him, "He's gone... They done?"

"Yeah.. Not very deep. I was thinking we take one of those smaller sheets of flat-iron and lay over top. It will keep animals from disturbing them. And it is far enough from the crash no-one will probably find them."

'Okay. Lets go get them," he replied.

In a half hour they had dragged the two police officers into the holes and covered them with dirt and the flat-iron. They took a moment of silence for the dead officers before departing. As they walked off both John and Grant had a twinge of guilt. Leaving the two peacekeepers in a makeshift grave not fit for animals didn't feel right. Yet if they did any more their own lives could possibly be in danger. Night was falling and that was a treacherous time to be on the roads... This was a perfect example of that.


	5. Chapter 5

The skidsteer loader picked the last packing crate of items off the trailer and carried it into the large tin shed. It deposited the large container on the cement floor and backed near the front before being turned off.

John climbed out and walked over to the trailer. He grabbed a armload of tarps and walked back into the shed. Grant was there already tying down tarps over the front and top of the massive rows of material.

"Think this will be good enough?" he asked.

John nodded, "This shed may not have a front door but it should keep most of the moisture out. The tarps will repel what little gets in."

The massive tin shed had originally been used for machinary storage. Once they had began salvaging, all the vehicles inside; 2 combines, a truck, a hay-baler and tractor were pulled out and parked alongside. This freed up a massive amount of space.

They didn't take time to sort it, being too busy with salvaging to do that. All they did was take out stuff affected by cold, such as food, or particularly valuable items and store them in a better building. They merely unloaded right off the trailers into the shed and covered them with tarps.

Now that they were done with most of the operations, they could slowly pick through it and sort it out. Right now they knew WHAT they had but had no idea as to where in the building.

They pulled the pickups, with the trailers still attached, alongside the building and turned them off, locking the doors and taking the keys with them. It was inside the "Compound" as they called it now and unlikely anyone would bother them.

Their place was in a small valley. One of the spots in Kansas that was prone to flooding. So around their main house, workshop, 2 barns, and 4 storage sheds they had built a roughly 4 foot high levee. It was useful at the time it was made and even more so now. It gave them a perimeter to watch and a good sign for any intruders "Do not cross". In fact there were signs saying "Do not enter. Intruders will be shot on sight" posted on the large dike.

They walked in the house and shed their coats, guns and caps before walking in and sitting down at the dinner table. They ate quickly and leaned back in the chairs. Everyone was silent for a moment before Deb spoke.

"How was it?" she asked.

Grant and John looked at each other before the former replied sheepishly, "What was it?"

"It doesn't matter.. Anyway.. At least this is the last day of this."

"With salvage," John replied, "We still have to set the stuff up and we have a lot of work to do around this place."

She nodded, "I know. But at least it is on our place and your not covering 2 or 3 hundred miles a day."

He agreed, "Yeah. Right now we should work on setting up what we got. Those solar panels can be installed if I look over the manuals and books we got from that one store. It will be tough but should be worth it. And we should set up that machine shop equipment tomorrow. Might need it for some of our stuff."

Grant nodded his head, but didn't reply.

"I think we should all turn in. Tomorrow will be just as busy as today," John announced.

Deb cleared off the table and Grant walked to his room and sat on the bed. As he unlaced his boots he couldn't help but think back on their week's work. It had been busy...But probably less busy than they would be now.


End file.
